Vongola Primo
by Jewel08
Summary: One soul is reborn in a time of blood and death, and declares that he would protect his home. He gathers his family, vowing to protect them, and succeeds. This... is the tale of Vongola Primo, Giotto.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hibari's not my only favorite character; not too long ago, I discovered Giotto! Needless to say, he's another favorite of mine now, and I absolutely adore him! There aren't a whole lot of fanfiction crossovers between Harry Potter and KHR that include him, so it really motivated me to write this. It'll be my interpretation of how Primo formed the Vongola, as well as some involvement with his descendant, Tsuna! If I butcher the history as it's presented in the manga/anime, forgive me. I'm more familiar with the series now, but still not 100% on it.**

 **Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to give me reviews!**

Chapter One

When you think of heroes, what comes to mind? Captain America? War veterans? Your parents? Those who survive horrible situations, like the Holocaust, by simply not allowing themselves to become less than human? Whatever the case, the wizards and witches of Britain would not be considered among them. The majority were sheep, unwilling to risk themselves in a fight that might get them killed; they cried out for someone to save them while never lifting a finger for those who answered the call. A brave few stepped up, risked their lives and their families to fight, but they were few and far between.

The fight against Lord Voldemort was terrifying not because of the fatalities, but because of the all-consuming _fear_. No one, not even the great Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, knew who was on their side or the Dark Lord's. No one suspected little Peter Pettigrew to be a traitor, a Marked Death Eater, and that led to more death and despair. But Dumbledore did just as much damage; he refused to give information that could have potentially saved hundreds, even thousands, of lives. He also never did anything to Voldemort while he was still a student in school, still known as Tom Riddle, and never allowed the Death Eaters to be killed, only captured.

Lily and James Potter were considered heroes; they fought against Voldemort three times and survived. They dared to have a family in such dark times. And finally, they died defending their only son, who was not even two. Harry Potter lived through a curse no one had ever been able to before, hailed as a Savior for something he could only remember in fragmented dreams. Then taken to an abusive household and left to survive as best he could for the next ten years.

Was Harry Potter a hero? Yes, most people would agree, but Harry himself would deny it. He was only doing what others would, taking a stand to stop a war that should've been ended by adults. (He never realized that most people _wouldn't_ fight a war, which is how this got started in the first place.)

But instead of surviving the end of the Final Battle, reuniting with his best friend and marrying, making his own family, Harry Potter collapsed.

Harry Potter had always been small and skinny for his years, a direct result from malnutrition and abuse from his aunt, uncle, and cousin when he was young. And during the Horcrux Hunt, Harry hadn't been taking very good care of himself, refusing to slow down or rest for long because the longer this dragged on, the more people would be killed. And during the duel between himself and Voldemort, he had given all his energy and will into that fight, much more than he could afford to give. And when Voldemort's body laid on the ground at last, Harry collapsed as well.

They said, when everything died down afterwards, that there was a small smile on his face.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Harry opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. It was blindingly white, white and empty. Harry got up, looking around at the King's Cross Station that he had been to once before. Only this time he was alone, no piece of soul or Dumbledore coming to talk to him. So Harry wrapped a clean robe around himself and sat down on a bench nearby.

Why was he here?

There were no sounds, even breathing. all Harry could do was think, trying to come up with an explanation as to why he was there. He wasn't a Horcrux anymore; there was no Voldemort to tie him to life. So why wasn't he in the afterlife with his parents, Remus, and Sirius? Didn't he deserve it after all the hell he'd been through in seventeen years of life?

Footsteps broke the monotonous silence, and Harry's head jerked up. The figure was male, with messy black hair and glittering hazel eyes. A smile was on James Potter's face as he looked at his son, a son he hadn't seen since he was a baby.

"Dad?" Harry whispered.

"Harry," James said. "I'm so proud of you."

Harry broke. Tears running down his face and sobs tearing themselves out of his mouth, the teenager threw himself into his father's arms. James embraced him, making soft comforting noises and stroking his son's black hair. He could only imagine the emotions running around Harry's mind. And when Harry's crying and slowed and then stopped, James gently sat down on the bench Harry had claimed before he'd appeared, resting his son's head on his shoulder.

"You know, I had to fight your mum, Padfoot, and Moony to come and talk to you," James whispered conspiratorially. Harry let out a soft laugh, emerald eyes wide.

"Really?" He had the funniest image of his dad dueling the rest of the family all at once.

"Yeah; Sirius kept wailing about how he needed to see his little Prongslet and tell you how much of a moron you were for not taking enough care of yourself. Lily quite agreed, so at least you're spared that horror."

Harry laughed, burrowing deeper into his dad's embrace. "But... if I really died killing Voldemort for good, and there's no Horcrux and Dark Lord to tie me to life, why am I here instead of with you, Mum, and everyone else?"

Fingers carded through Harry's messy black hair, and James let out a sigh. "It's...a little complicated, but I'll try to explain it. A major part of it is because... well, it's because of the Hallows. I didn't know until we died 16 years ago, but Death is an actually entity. And-"

James was interrupted by a cold, sharp wind that picked up suddenly. Harry and James tried to keep their hair out of their eyes, watching with amusement (James) and astonishment (Harry). When the wind finally died down, a tall figure wearing a robe made of shadows stood before the two wizards. No hint of the figure's face could be seen underneath the hood, and one skeletal hand clutched a tall other hand was hidden in the folds of the cloak. And the aura of the figure was that of bitter cold, of the eternal sleep that eventually claims all living things, the feeling of the grave. This was Death.

"Ah... so my Master finally joins us," Death said. Its voice was the snapping of bones, the crunching of dry, dead leaves in winter, and the sorrow of loved ones left behind. But there was also the hidden tones of the comfort of the eternal sleep.

Harry stood, facing Death at last. "I'm sorry you had to wait," Harry said, for lack of anything else to say.

Death laughed, quite a terrible sound, if Harry was being honest. "Quite the sense of humor. But... getting to the reason you are here... has your father explained it to you?"

Harry shook his head. "He just said that it had something to do with the Hallows, and that was when you showed up."

Death inclined its head. "James Potter is quite right. From the moment you accepted the Resurrection Stone and used its power, when you grasped the Elder Wand after killing Tom Riddle, and when you held the Invisibility Cloak in your hands at 11 years old, you became my Master. If this had not happened, you would be living your life, sent back to that world if killed. But now... things are different. I could still send you back to your Wizarding World if you so wish, you could go with your father to the afterlife, or there is a third option."

Death's scythe slashed through the air in anger. "Your childhood was robbed from you; your innocence taken before you could enjoy it. And while I am Death, I must admit to being fond of children, so I will make this option for you. I will send you to a different reality, one where you can fully live your life and enjoy your childhood at the pace you were supposed to. Of course, you will face pain, and suffering, there will be times where you may lose your life. But you have the opportunity to have a family. What will you choose?"

Harry was stunned. Another life? Or go to the afterlife with his father? As he bit his lip in thought, James stood and faced his son. "Harry... I think you should take it." Harry looked at his father in shock. James smiled. "Sure, we all want to meet you in the afterlife, but we can wait a few more years. Take this chance and live a good life; and for Merlin's sake, don't die at 17 again!"

All Harry could do was stare at his father, until James drew him into another hug. "We will always love you, and we want you to enjoy your life. So take Death's offer and get a pretty girl, alright?"

Harry let out a choked laugh and nodded weakly. Death lifted his scythe and slammed it on the ground once, cracks appearing in the pure white stone. **"So it shall be,"** Death rumbled. Harry gave one last hug to his father before being swept away, hoping that his next life would be better than this one was.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

In a small city in Italy, a proud, exhausted mother with soft blond hair smiled as she looked upon her son. Call it a mother's intuition, but she _knew_ that her baby boy was going to be magnificent.

"Your name will be Giotto. Giotto di Vongola."

 **Hopefully that explains some things. I don't know what Giotto's last name is, so in this story, 'Vongola' is his family name. Deal with it. I am just a sucker for the 'Harry-dies-and-is-reborn-as-KHR-characters' stories, though. And Giotto is just as sexy as Hibari.**

 **Give me reviews?**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Let me just say thank you for all the Favs, Follows, and Reviews that Chapter One of 'Vongola Primo' got; I hope you guys like this next chapter just as much!**

 **And yeah, in some parts of this story I will completely screw over the information from canon and change it- but since this is technically AU, I don't care.**

Chapter Two

Harry-oh, wait, he should call himself Giotto now, he wasn't Harry Potter anymore- often wondered what this new life was going to be like. He had a new family, one that hadn't died when he was too young to remember them. He looked more like his mother this time, with the same blond hair and light orange eyes, but his hair's spikiness and shape of his face was from his father.

They lived in a large town...city?... in Italy, one that the Vongola family had been part of for a long time, and the entire family had been considered a kind of nobility since then, protectors and leaders of sorts. All citizens knew that any Vongola would help them for no other reason than they needed aide. Ha-Giotto looked up at his parents, who were quietly bickering about what needed to be done today.

His mother's name was Aurora, ('named after the sunrise', she'd joked once), and his father's was Soren. Giotto didn't quite know what that meant yet; he was learning Italian pretty quickly since he was now Italian himself instead of British, but some things of the language escaped him still. (At least he wouldn't need to learn English, there was one silver lining already!) Aurora was kind yet fierce, _never_ one to be underestimated, and Soren was calm and radiated a sort of aura that reminded Giotto of a leader, someone that protected all that he could.

He was _happy_ , with his new parents, just like his first parents wanted.

Giotto smiled and lifted his arms, silently asking his mama to pick him up. Aurora di Vongola happily did so, smoothing her son's hair away from his face.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Despite his prior life experience (or perhaps because of it? It hadn't been the _best_ life after all...), Giotto didn't have a lot of friends. He wasn't as uncomfortable with attention like he was as Harry Potter, and that was a good thing because he seemed to attract people even more now! No matter where he went, people noticed him; most of the attention didn't seem to be bad, though, so at least there was that. But because of that attention, and the bad experience he'd had with Wizarding Britain as a whole, Giotto was always wary of people wanting his friendship and favor because of some ulterior motive.

But when he was around...six, seven years old he met another young boy around his age. He introduced himself as G. Giotto silently observed him with calm orange eyes; G had pale red hair, a shade of red unlike Ron's and the other Weasley's since it could be considered almost pink, and matching red eyes, with a fierce-looking tattoo on the right half of his face that resembled flames. G was...different. He was blunt and easily angered, a little bit prickly and defensive due to the less-than-good conditions their town had slipped into. But he was also fiercely loyal to those who earned it, unforgiving to those who betrayed what he holds dear.

"I want to change this place, G," Giotto said, eyes burning with his resolve. "My family has protected it ever since it was founded, and I don't...want my parents' sacrifice to be in vain." _Either set of parents._ "Will you help me?"

G studied him for a while- _without the jealousy or hesitance he'd often seen in Ron_ \- before he nodded and clasped his hand around the blond's.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Giotto loved this town, city, however it was categorized.

It was his _home_ , something he hadn't had as Harry. _The Dursley house had been a cage, a personal Hell where he had been ignored, unwanted, mistreated, and Hogwarts had proved unsafe despite the castle itself's best efforts, later becoming a mass grave for those opposing Voldemort._ His ancestors protected it, and Giotto wanted the people there, the people he'd known since birth, to be safe and not have to worry about themselves, their families, or their friends being brutally murdered because of that damn Mafia.

But however much he loved it, Giotto knew that the situation in his town was quickly sliding into _very bad_. Other nobles (maybe actual ones, maybe not) had moved in and truly _didn't care_ about anything other than lining their own pockets with as much gold as they could get their hands on. As such, they _despised_ Giotto di Vongola, one of three or four nobles who were trying to stop them. Unfortunately, the small military force in the town was in the corrupt nobles' pockets, which meant there was absolutely no protection for anyone else in the event of an attack. From Mafia famiglias or otherwise.

Giotto was the unofficial leader of the few decent nobles left, despite his young age, but he couldn't do too much since his enemies were waiting for just one chance to be rid of him. It was a delicate balance, a thin line, one that would tip over sooner or later. Time would only tell if it was Giotto who triumphed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Little by little, G softened up towards his friend, the steel-spined blond with too-old eyes, and they became very good at working together. Giotto had the dreams, the desires of _protecting_ , of making things _better_ , but it was G who brought those into viable plans. G was the strategist, the planner, and Giotto easily admitted that what he wanted to do might not work out without G. (Not to say Giotto wouldn't be able to make his dreams a reality-just that they might not work out quite like they should or that he'd hope for.)

"You're very much my right-hand man," Giotto half-jokingly said. "That means you're stuck with me and all my crazy antics!"

G growled and half-heartedly swiped at his friend.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Giotto, G decided, was _weird_. It was like...the logic of the world at large just didn't _click_ in Giotto's brain. Some of the things he did drove G up the wall and halfway into a grave, and the idiota would just blink and act like it was a _rational_ thing to do! G had a feeling that if he were to literally tear his hair out every time the blond did something suicidaly idiotic or just flat-out _bizzare_ , he'd go bald in less than two days.

Seriously, Giotto di Vongola could find trouble all on his own inside a locked room with nothing in said room besides himself!

Needless to say, _that_ was the reason G eventually took up smoking. Tch. It was better than drinking, anyway.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"I'm getting worried," Giotto admitted one day.

"About what?"

"The attacks, from the Mafia and other parties, are getting steadily worse," the blond mused. "And the people in town have told me the corrupt nobles are stepping up their game in trying to get rid of me. We'll need to act quickly." G nodded in agreement, resigned to the fact that even if he wanted to, he'd never been able to stop Giotto from doing what he felt was best. The only thing he could do was go along with whatever he had planned and try to keep the idiota from dying, and G would have his work cut out for him. _Trouble always found Giotto, no matter how much he tried to stay out of it._

Personally, G was also worried about his best friend; the blond was certainly more mature than anyone else their age, but Giotto was still so young, only around...what, twelve, now? And yet he had the responsibility of his hometown squarely on his young shoulders, as well as all the lives in it. He needed to be more skilled, smarter, _better_ than any kid that age should have to be. G could only help; he couldn't take that burden from his friend.

They desperately needed help; they were outnumbered, and no matter how strong their will was, right now there was little chance Giotto could succeed. But who would aid them? Giotto and G were kids, no one believed they could actually make a difference.

Giotto tapped his fingers on his chair. "I remember that Asari told me he'd come help if I ever needed it, but...he has his own dreams. I don't want to pull him away from that unless things get really desperate."

G snorted, shooting his best friend with his patented are-you-an-idiot look. "And what'll be "really desperate", huh? When you're in jail? Waiting for execution? Write him, Giotto."

The blond looked a little hesitant but nodded. G was scary when annoyed, and the redhead often got annoyed when Giotto decided to "ignore his common sense".

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

As Giotto had experienced firsthand, there were many different worlds and realities besides the one you were born in. Travel between those different realities was nearly impossible, however, unless you had the aid of a celestial being, like a god, goddess, or Primordial like Life or Death. Some realities had magic, like the Wizarding World, some had elementals or element bending, some had Alchemy, one had Aliens and Time Travel with Blue Boxes, and a memorable one had warriors wielding sabers of light.

Yet despite knowing that, Giotto had never asked himself what was special about this world. Kinda silly of him, in hindsight.

"Flames," Giotto said blankly. "HOW THE HELL ARE MY HANDS ON FIRE?!"

G stared at his friend with his mouth wide open, ignoring his own red flames flickering over the barrel of his gun. "And your forehead," he said blankly.

Giotto was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown-"First the damn Wizarding World, then the damn Mafia, and now these flames?!"-when someone interrupted him.

"That's really impressive, signore."

The blonde whirled around, the orange flames sputtering out as he lost his focus. G let out a curse and caught his friend before Giotto could crash to the ground. Giotto held a hand to his head and winced. "I'm all right, G. Just got... a little dizzy there."

G looked up and glared at the stranger who was still standing there, although now he did look concerned for Giotto's health. "Why are ya just standin' there?!" G demanded. "We gotta get outta here before those damned nobles come breathin' down our necks!" The stranger nodded, coming to kneel beside Giotto and slinging one of the blonde's arms around his shoulder.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Giotto groaned as he was lowered into a chair in their house, though this time it was from sheer annoyance. He was fine, blast it! But he knew better than to say it out loud; G wouldn't listen anyway. Said right-hand man came back and shoved a cup of tea in Giotto's hands, giving him a piercing glare so that the blonde would actually drink it. (Giotto still preferred tea over coffee, despite not being an Englishman anymore. Though he wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee if it was offered.)

"Thank you, G," Giotto said quietly, already feeling a little better. Then he turned to the stranger that he hadn't had a chance to talk to after the fight. "And I'm sorry about that; my name is Giotto. Giotto di Vongola. And this is my good friend and right-hand man, G."

The other man smiled. "My name's Cozarto, Cozarto Simon. It's a pleasure to meet you." G handed Cozarto his own cup, this time coffee, and then sat down in the other chair, giving a curt nod at Cozarto's thanks. "So...those Flames...was that the first time that has ever happened to you?"

Giotto and G exchanged looks, then Giotto frowned as he looked back at their gest. "Yes, that was." His cheeks flushed as he absently stirred his tea. "I..er...guess I didn't react in the best way." G sniggered, earning a glare from the blond. "Though how you're supposed to react when there are _flames_ coming out of your hands, I don't have a clue-"

"I'm pretty sure screaming like a little girl was the right way; nine, maybe ten years old, I'm seeing pigtails and a frilly skirt-" G snickered, only to be interrupted by Giotto attempting to take his head off. Cozarto watched in amusement as the two chased each other around the living room for a few minutes before settling down.

"Well, those aren't regular flames," Cozarto finally said, taking a long drink. "Yours were orange and G's were red, correct?" Giotto thought back to when he'd seen those flames dancing on his hands, how warm and hyper-aware he'd felt, and nodded. "Those are different from the ones I'm personally familiar with; part of a different grouping. Anyway, they're called Dying Will Flames, named because they only appear when you are desperate to survive or protect something even if you die while doing so."

That...scarily made a lot of sense. Giotto and G exchanged a look; it had been a Mafia group they'd fought, just six or seven thugs, but then G had slipped in the middle of the fight. Either he had lost his balance on the uneven street or one of their opponents had tripped him, but one of the thugs was quick to take advantage of G's momentary helplessness. For you see, G had lost his grip on his gun on the impact with the ground, causing it to clatter far out of his reach.

Giotto had felt an intense amount of fear for his friend's life and determination to keep him from dying; _"I must save him, even if I die in his place!"_ And those beautiful orange flames had burst from his hands (and apparently his forehead if what G had said was true), the fight becoming almost slow-motion. Giotto had easily taken out his own opponents before moving on to help G. G had gaped at him, red flames of his own flickering over his fingertips and the barrel of his gun that was still a little out of the redhead's reach.

Cozarto kept silent for a few minutes, probably letting them absorb the information, before continuing with his explanation. "There are two main groups of Flames; Flames of the Sky and Flames of the Earth. For some reason that I don't think anyone's ever actually discovered, the Flames of the Sky come in seven different colors, those found in a rainbow. Red, orange, green, and so on. And each color is assigned a different name due to their characteristics. Red Flames are called Storm Flames, for example, while orange Flames are Sky Flames."

"Are there any other differences in the Flames besides their color?" G asked, becoming interested.

Cozarto nodded. "Each Flame has a specific...power, I guess would be the way to put it. From what I've seen, Sky Flames are kind of like the glue that holds the other Flames together without the whole thing imploding. Storm Flames have the power of Disintegration; there's hardly anything they can't destroy, and they can even disintegrate other Dying Will Flames."

"What about the others?" Giotto asked, setting his tea down. "And what about my Flames? What else can they do?"

Cozarto shrugged. "I don't really know. Sky Flames are rare, only passed down in families, and I guess that people around Skies are really protective; you're the first Sky that I've even been able to talk to without their Guardians trying to keep me away. And my Flame is part of the Flames of the Earth, so I don't have any personal experience with Sky Flames."

"Guardians?" G asked, perking up.

"Yeah. That's apparently what the other Flames are when they're with a Sky." Cozarto frowned, trying to recall exactly what he'd seen the few times he'd come across a Sky. "It was like the Sky was their leader, their heart, so they needed to protect them. One of the Skies told me it was like a bond between their Flames and their Guardians'."

Giotto nodded. But he had a feeling that 'spiritual glue' wasn't the only thing his Sky Flames could do. The only question was how to find it out.

Cozarto stood, readjusting his hat. "I think I need to get going; my friends worry about me. They think I'm a trouble-magnet."

G scoffed. "I doubt you're as bad as Giotto." Said blonde flushed but didn't deny it. After all, only he would get a rare Flame type when he didn't want more attention than he already got. That damn Potter luck; couldn't even leave him alone in a new life.

"Thank you for explaining things, Cozarto," Giotto said, smiling at the other. "At least we're not completely in the dark about this now." Cozarto grinned.

"Don't mention it."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Miles away. someone scoffed as his opponents dropped like flies. A glint of metal flashed for a single moment before his weapon was stashed in its hiding spot. He ignored the pained whimpers and groans as he moved towards the small town that was his goal. Teeth were bared in a predatory smile as he said, "Perhaps this Vongola will actually be of interest..."

 **Dun dun dun!**

 **But for the record, I HATE this chapter! Writing Cozarto Simon was like pulling teeth! And it doesn't help that I haven't read any of the manga (I can't find it anywhere and it's driving me nuts) or seen if he's in the anime at all, so I had to look him up on the Reborn Wiki page. However, it just gave me the basics of his personality , so if he's out of character, I apologize.**

 **Other than that, I hope you guys like my take on how Giotto and G unlocked their Flames; I couldn't find any information on how it happened in canon, so I had to make up something.**

 **Read and Review!**


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